FOR ABOUT THE TENTH time that day, Luke walked toward Margot just as she turned and walked in a different direction. No, it was probably at least the twentieth time; he’d lost count. Any other day, he’d take it personally, except she’d barely stayed in one place for more than five minutes for the entire party. Plus, he’d managed to make it over to her at least three times—each time they’d had only the chance to smile at each other and quickly check in before she’d rushed off in another direction, but just being around her made him happy. And today, unlike the many other times they’d been together at the winery, when he’d looked around for her, she’d looked back at him and given him a quick, tiny smile.
He walked over toward Taylor, a plate of food in his hands. Margot wasn’t in sight anymore; Taylor would know where she was. Or, at least, in which direction she’d gone.
“Hey—Sydney sent me over here with food for Margot. Do you know where she is?”
Taylor looked down to see the pizza he’d sent over for Margot still behind the table.
“Good idea. She went to find Elliot, but she could be anywhere now. Though that red dress does make her easy to find.”
Luke turned to go find her, and then stopped.
“Before I forget: That guy over there, with the white baseball cap and the blue shirt? I don’t think he needs any more wine.”
Taylor looked where he’d gestured, and nodded.
“Good catch,” she said. “I think we’ve all been too busy to really keep track. Thanks, Luke.”
He shrugged.
“No problem. Be right back.”
He probably could have left the food for Margot at the table— Taylor would have made sure she got it—but he wanted to give it to her himself. She hadn’t eaten all day. And he’d barely talked to her all day. He wanted to check in, see how she was doing, how she thought the day was going. He thought she’d be pleased—there were a lot of people here, the food was great, the music was fun, everyone seemed happy—but he didn’t know if there had been problems below the surface that he hadn’t noticed.
He went into the barn to see if Margot was there, and stopped just inside the door. She was over in the corner, with Elliot and a woman with short hair and glasses. Elliot was talking animatedly—which was surprising—and Margot was smiling, but something in the nature of her smile and the way she was standing made it clear to Luke that this was a high-pressure conversation, for Margot, at least.
He waited for her to notice him, which she did after about a minute. She nodded at him, and after another minute or so, put her hand on Elliot’s arm.
“I’ll leave you two to this. Aurora, please let me know if you need any more wine, though I’m sure Elliot can take care of that. I’ll be back outside if you have any questions.”
She walked toward Luke, a smile on her face, and an anxious look in her eyes. Luke handed her the plate when she got close enough to him.
“Charlie sent this to you,” he said as they walked together out of the barn. “I think they might have me drawn and quartered if I didn’t deliver this plate safely. And Sydney gave me these napkins for you.”
Margot laughed, but it was her practiced, professional laugh. It felt weird, to both be here, to be acting so formal and distant with her, when their relationship had changed so much over the past month. Maybe that was why they’d barely interacted during the party: He didn’t want to hear that friendly, distant tone to her voice. Like she was talking to anyone.
Why had she kept their relationship a secret from the people at Noble? He knew it was partly because of Margot’s baggage with Elliot, but he hadn’t pushed her on that. He hadn’t really felt like he could, since his mom was still under the impression that he was dating Avery. He planned to tell his mom the truth about that. It just had its own complications.
He and Margot walked out of the barn, and she inclined her head to the far side of the barn. As soon as they were out of sight of the party, she turned to him, her eyes lit up.
“That woman in there!” she said in a low whisper. “In the barn, talking to Elliot! She writes for the San Francisco Chronicle! I’ve been hoping someone from there would come to the tasting room this summer. They’ve occasionally written about our wines, but not enough, and never about visiting the winery. And now she’s here! At the party!”
Margot’s professional mask was gone, and she was talking to him like she did when they were side by side at the bar, or at her house on the couch, or in bed. He didn’t know why he felt so relieved.